


Arsonist's Lullaby

by nesrynfaliq



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, PWP, Smut, for Nicole who is a gem, totey bit of hurt/comfort, wing sin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nesrynfaliq/pseuds/nesrynfaliq
Summary: Wing Sin. Cassian/Nesta established relationship, post ACOWAR, all sorts of nice things. The first time that Cassian lets anyone touch his wings since they’ve healed. NSFW.‘Nesta’s mouth opens slightly as she stares behind him at his wings, at the patterns his scars paint through them, stria in marble. Transfixed she reaches out, her fingers carefully, so carefully ghosting over the outer crest of one wing. He trembles, unable to help himself. Months, it’s been months since he’s dared to allow anyone, anything, to touch his wings. Every broken instinct and shredded nerve inside him wants to tuck them against his body, prevent them from being exposed, protect them, he can’t endure that again, can’t face losing them again he can’t, he can’t, he-Cassian.Nesta’s voice reaches him, sharp and certain through their bond and his eyes open. He looks at her. His mate. His mate. He softens at the sight of her, at the love that manages to make its way to the surface, the tenderness. His mate. His mate. He closes his eyes again, lets himself relax, lets himself enjoy her touch, enjoy her tentative curiosity as she experiments with this new, uncharted piece of him.’





	Arsonist's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tealdeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tealdeal/gifts).



 

Nesta kisses him. She’s cradled in his arms, the two of them entwined, chest to chest, on the edge of his bed. Her small, delicate body fits easily within his, enveloped by him, but he holds her so gently, so carefully, as though she might crumble to ash if she’s lost from his embrace.

Her tongue presses hungrily against his lips and Cassian parts them eagerly for her. The War still rages. His men still die on battlefields nearly every day and there’s nothing he can do about it. His Circle, his family, is under near constant threat of death, he could lose them, lose everything in a heartbeat but...But when she’s here with him it all goes quiet.

 The cacophony that rages inside his head dulls to a hoarse, distant whisper. The fears that plague him every moment these days are swept away like dry leaves in a hurricane. When she touches him his focus narrows on her, as though she can turn off the whole world with the simple brush of a finger, leaving it empty but for them. And when she kisses him like this...When she kisses him like this she destroys him and remakes him between breathless, desperate gasps and the roaring of the flames that consume them.

He cases to exist save for where they join in these moments. The sharp scent of her perfume fills his lungs, the taste of honey on her tongue sweeps through his mouth. The feel of her soft, warm, body pressing against his sets the flames that are constantly blazing in his blood, licking around his bones, free. They consume him and leave his imprint burned into her soul. In her arms he flies again. In her arms he _soars_.

And still he wants _more_.

“Nesta,” he groans as she breaks away long enough to suck down a greedy breath. Then her mouth is on his again. “Nesta,” he repeats, as her hands rise from where they’d been gripping his shoulders and her fingers slide deeply into his hair. “ _Nesta_ ,” he bites out as she grinds down onto him, smirking into the kiss when she feels him already half-hard for her.

This woman, this slice of oblivion put on this world to match him in a way nothing else could. She is a storm trapped beneath skin; with steel in her spine and fire in her heart and she’s going to be his end some day. Cassian has spent his entire life spitting in the face of death, surviving against the odds, defying those who ushered him towards his demise, jeering that he had overstayed his welcome in this world as it was, refusing to answer fate’s call whenever she presented him with destruction. But to this...To _her_...He surrenders himself entirely.

She shifts against him, settling more firmly in his lap, a queen entirely comfortable upon her throne, her kiss deepening. Her hands grip rough, thick fistfuls of his long, dark hair, pulling it out of the leather strap he had used to restrain it. It tumbles free and she purrs her satisfaction as she grips tightly onto it, anchoring herself to him. His hands cradle soft, smooth white skin as he gently tilts her face up, seeking more from her. She gives it to him. She gives him everything he could ask for and then more than he can handle all in a breath and he _lives_ for it.

She moves again, pressing in closer, her fingers quivering where she keeps them buried in his hair, to stop them seeking purchase elsewhere. The bond surges between them. _The bond._ Raw and untamed though they sealed it weeks ago, still it burns, still it binds them tighter every day. He had been shocked when she had wanted it, when she had demanded it. She had demanded _him_. She had told him that she loved him, that she knew he loved her too, that she knew what this was and she knew what she wanted. She had chosen him. She had _claimed_ him and he had claimed her in return and now....

That night, when she had drawn him up to his own damned bed and settled herself on it like it was her throne, and he her king, she had whispered something to him in the darkness before they had joined. They had both been dismissed and overlooked and called worthless; the bastard, the burden, not worthy of the space they took up or the air that they breathed, she had told him. They had both known what it was to be powerless in their lives, she had murmured and he’d felt the breath flood his lungs as she had bared herself before him, settled back on his bed and spread her legs for him. When he had moved over her and gently pushed inside her she had gasped and with the last gasp of breath in her lungs she had promised him that they were not powerless anymore. She had taken his face in her hand and kissed him, lifting her hips against him and making him shudder. She had promised them, with soft, breathless whimpers as he moved inside her, that they would never be powerless again, never be helpless before anyone again except their mate.

She offered him her vulnerability, her raw truth, her bare, broken soul and had asked nothing in return but the very same from him. He had given it to her. Again and again and again that night he had given it to her. The bond had bound them together with that promise

Through it, he knows what she wants, knows what she’s thinking, knows what she’s stopping herself from doing with every tremulous second she waits. Groaning, Cass briefly flares his wings, just a little, before they snap instinctively tight against his body again. But even from that brief glimpse, he knows that he’s read her correctly when her eyes widen, distracted for a moment from the passion of their embrace. They’re still a tapestry of scarred flesh and faint white lines, like lightning arcing across a black sky, the haunting echoes of his agony. He will fly again. Some day. They promised him.

Nesta cradles his face in her hand, gently turns it so that he’s facing her again, looking straight into those storm-tossed blue eyes of hers.  He holds her gaze then nods for her, slowly, deliberately. He reads the shock on her face at the same moment he feels a spike of it through the bond and smiles faintly at it. This guarded, fortress of a woman is open to him now, like the pages of her favourite books spread before him, for him alone to read and understand.

“You’re ready?” she murmurs quietly, her face suddenly serious. He can’t help the smile from broadening at the soft words, a question, though she knows the answer.

 Somehow, the fact she can read him, understand him, as easily as he can her, makes his heart jolt. Cassian has never been shy in that regard, has never played his cards close to his chest. Yet even with his heart worn proudly upon his sleeve, still it was easily dismissed by those he chose to take into his bed. They saw his title, his body, his deeds, the warrior he had forged himself into through blood and sweat and pain. It had not been until Nesta Archeron had fixed him with that piercing stare that he had felt any of his lovers had ever truly seen _him_ in the way that she does.

“Yes,” he murmurs, reaching out a rough, calloused hand and stroking the backs of his fingers against her cheek.

All this war, all this conflict and strife and it seems as though it’s barely touched her. She might have stepped straight from the Cauldron and into his waiting arms only minutes ago. He knows that it’s left its marks, that scars now pepper her heart and soul, but her pride refuses to let them show on her skin. There’s so much beneath the surface of this woman, so much hurt and guilt and _love_ that sometimes he wonders how it didn’t destroy her, all those years her heart raged and she had nothing but bitter grief and silent suffering to feed it with.

Like their hearts; he bares his on the surface of himself while she keeps hers hidden, trapped behind her thick armour of ice and steel. But they each belong to the other now. He’s given her his heart, his soul, his love, his loyalty...It’s time she had his scars, too.

“Please, Nes,” he murmurs and she knows he understands, understands the plea, the acceptance, the vulnerability. Never powerless but for the other...He feels sometimes he’s been powerless from the moment he met her, from the moment he looked at her and knew that this woman had sunk her claws into him and that she wouldn’t easily let go. She had given him her vulnerability, had surrendered herself to him completely. It’s time she had this last, shredded, terrified part of him, too.

Slowly, carefully, his eyes on her to give him strength, Cassian lets his wings spread to their fullest extent behind him, in a way he hasn’t done since he sheltered Azriel from the blast in Hybern.

Nesta’s mouth opens slightly as she stares behind him at his wings, at the patterns his scars paint through them, stria in marble. Transfixed she reaches out, her fingers carefully, so carefully ghosting over the outer crest of one wing. He trembles, unable to help himself. Months, it’s been _months_ since he’s dared to allow anyone, _anything_ , to touch his wings. Every broken instinct and shredded nerve inside him wants to tuck them against his body, prevent them from being exposed, protect them, he can’t endure that again, can’t face losing them again he can’t, he can’t, he-

_Cassian._

Nesta’s voice reaches him, sharp and certain through their bond and his eyes open. He looks at her. His mate. His _mate_. He softens at the sight of her, at the love that manages to make its way to the surface, the tenderness. His mate. His mate. He closes his eyes again, lets himself relax, lets himself enjoy her touch, enjoy her tentative curiosity as she experiments with this new, uncharted piece of him.

Her fingers move from the solid arc of bone framing his wings to the membrane of them. The tips of her fingers barely touch him but he shivers, lets out a soft huff of breath as he reaches behind him, gripping a fistful of the sheets behind him to anchor himself. He feels the questioning flicker of Nesta’s thoughts brushing his own and smirks, broadening the bond a little to let her know just how sensitive his wings are.

 A little whimper breaks from her throat in response and shoots straight for his core. He groans, his eyes fluttering closed and he feels her shut that part of herself off from him. She doesn’t want to be distracted by what he’s feeling. He’ll share it with her, some day, through their bond, so she knows exactly what she can do to him but...She wants this time, this first time, to be about him and he loves her more than she’ll ever know for that alone.

Nesta’s touches gradually grow in confidence as she starts to discover what he likes, reading his responses. She had been a cautious lover, when he’d first taken her to bed, he’d been surprised to learn. Though he had quickly come to realise that Nesta’s assertive front was just that – a front. Beneath that was a host of uncertainty and insecurity, terrified of failure, of making mistakes, of slipping and letting that mask crack, letting the weakness bleed into her. That achingly human heart that still beats in her chest is her greatest strength and her greatest vulnerability and she knows it.

Her fingers find a rhythm of soft strokes and gentle presses in particularly sensitive spots that she lingers on, slowly stoking the fire that’s starting to burn in his core. Once he’s sure he’s melted into her body, formed himself around her, she leans forwards, her satisfaction evident through the bond, and kisses at his neck. He groans softly. Having her touch his wings has him losing it so quickly for her because it’s slow, it’s steady, a careful build of pleasure blended with desire rising up and up and up so slowly. It’s a tease, it’s a torment, but it feels so damn good he can’t resist it, can’t help but crave more and more and more and _more_ from her.

“You- you’re good at this, sweetheart,” he manages to murmur to her, and he can feel the swell of satisfaction from the bond and damn him if it doesn’t turn him on even more, feeling how pleased she is with herself at bringing pleasure to him, her mate.

“You like it?” She asks quietly, her voice dropping into that low, smooth purr that’s reserved only for him, for the shadowed midnight hours they spend tangled between sheets together.

He can’t speak, can’t force the words out, can only groan faintly, nod desperately, and push his pleasure, his lust, through the bond to her so she knows exactly what she’s doing to him.

 She keeps working his wings, testing new pressures, growing bolder, a little harder, a little harder and it’s an effort now to stop himself panting, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as he tries to cling to her. For a half a heartbeat she pauses, hesitates and he has to bite his tongue to choke back the curses because he needs more.

Then he feels the hot pulse of her breath against him and he stops breathing, stops thinking entirely. Then she’s tipping slowly forwards, a hand braced against his chest to keep herself steady as she lets that sweet, filthy little mouth of hers murmur over the membrane of his wings, at once finding the most sensitive spots she’s discovered with her hands. He can’t get the breath into his lungs to curse for her the way he needs to. A hand slides into her hair, gripping tightly, holding her in place, unsure if he can take anymore. Then her tongue presses gently, carefully against him and he can’t contain the broken moan that chokes out of him.

Nesta draws away, alarmed, and he feels her flash of worry, misreading the sound, afraid that she’s pushed him too far, that she’s hurt him. Cassian surges for her, drawing her down by the hand that’s still tangled deeply in her hair, their lips crashing together. He’s already aching for her touch again, her hands, her mouth, whatever she sees fit to give him he just, he just- “Please, Nes,” he whispers hoarsely, “Keep going, please, sweetheart.”

She senses his urgency, his desperation, and gives him a soft smile before letting her fingers caress him again. Finding that rhythm once more she sinks into it, lets them both get lost in it. Moaning softly he buries his face into the crook of her neck, panting, breathing in her scent and letting himself drown in it.

When she starts to slowly grind her hips down against his Cassian barks out a hoarse curse and she laughs softly, her breathing becoming a little heavier as she rocks against him. Her mouth finds his wings again and he whimpers, gripping tightly onto her. Those slender, delicate fingers of hers press against him in all the right places, instinctively finding those spots that make him snarl out her name against her skin.

Unwilling to allow her to have all the fun, Cassian starts gently kissing her neck, his lips ghosting against the sensitive places that always have her screaming his name when he’s buried inside her and needs something more to push her over the edge for him. She moans softly, her fingers shuddering, faltering on his wings for a fraction of a heartbeat before she growls softly, increases her pace, the pressure of her touches and then he’s gasping for breath again, clinging to her with desperate strength as he feels himself starting to slip away again.

Nesta drags the back of her finger almost idly across as much of his wing as she can comfortably reach while remaining nestled in his lap against his chest and Cassian lets a rough curse drop out of him. She smirks at that, leaning in to nuzzle at his neck, grinding down gently onto him. He’s hard for her already and she hisses softly at the discovery. “You like this?” she asks him softly.

“Yes,” he gits out roughly, his face still buried against her neck, breathing in her scent, trying to ground himself in her, that steady, enduring presence of hers.

Panting a little, rocking her hips more urgently against him, Nesta lets out a soft whimper and he catches the scent of her arousal for the first time. It drags a rough growl from him. He wants his fingers between her thighs, he wants to feel how wet she is for him, he wants to push his fingers into her, feel her coming around them as he drives her wild too.

But then Nesta is leaning in, dragging her mouth up to his ear, biting gently and murmurs, “Tell me what you want, tell me what I should do to you.” He chokes out a groan, muffling it against her skin, feeling himself shudder.

She’s never been shy about asking him for what she wants, what she needs from him. He likes the instruction, likes hearing her beg him for exactly what she needs, likes giving it to her and watching her writhe and moan before him. He’s always preferred partners who ask him for what they want. He enjoys experimenting, teasing, discovering for himself initially but then...Then he just wants them coming for him, screaming out his name as he does things that drive them wild.

After their first few times together Nesta was comfortable enough to urge him to give her everything she needed, even to try things she wasn’t sure if she’d like or not but wanted to know. He had given in to every whim, every fleeting thought or impulse that reached him through the bond, everything she had wanted he had given and given and _given_.

 Now...Hearing her ask him what he wants, what she can do to him to make him feel good, what he wants from her, anything, anything; it snaps something in him. He snarls roughly, pushing aside her nightgown, shoving it up around her hips before he strokes her through her underwear. Soaked, as he’d expected, as he’d wanted from her. Nesta gasps, hips jerking against him as he slides his fingers into her underwear, swiping them through her folds and growling in satisfaction at how much she wants him.

“Cassian,” she moans breathlessly, his name a protest. He can feel the reason for her reluctance through the bond. She wanted this to be about him, just about him, his wings, his pleasure, and Cauldron damn him but it makes him want her even more.

He interrupts the hesitant thoughts that are reaching him through the bond from her, smothering it with his desire, with his _need_. “What do I want?” he pants, repeating back her question to her, his wings jerking against her fingers, seeking more, even as his hips rise from the bed, grinding up against her, letting her _feel_ what he wants.

She whimpers softly and he leans forwards, nuzzles at her ear, dragging it gently between her teeth that way she likes before he grinds out, “I want _you_ , Nes.” She bites her lip to contain the sound she wants to make for him but it reaches him through the bond all the same and he groans. “I want, I _need_ to be inside you, sweetheart, I need more, I can’t, I-“

He breaks off as she drags her nail slowly, slowly down a thick strip of muscle near one of the arcing ridges of bone in the centre of his wing. She knows, damn her, she knows what this is doing to him, knows how it’s driving him wild, how it’s turning him on, how desperate it’s making him for her. He hasn’t felt this way since their bond first snapped into place and he’d had that hunger tearing through him, that urge to have her as often as he could, as often as she’d allow. She _knows_ , she knows what he wants, she knows what he needs, knows that this isn’t enough on its own, that she can drive him right up to the edge but never quite finish him with this alone.

Some males, he’s heard, can come from nothing but the feel of their partner touching their wings and she could bring him close, he’s sure but...He’s always needed something more. He’s always needed his partner involved, has needed to be inside them, to feel their pleasure swelling through the room along with his own. He needs that now, needs _her_ now.

“I want to be inside you, Nesta,” he murmurs to her, stroking her hair back from her face, drawing her down to kiss him, hot and rough and hard. “I want you riding me,” he growls and he knows that she gets the image he pushes her way through the bond, the way it looks for him with her over him, sinking down onto him, fucking him until all he can do is rasp out her name as he finishes inside her. “I want to feel you coming around my cock while your hands are on my wings and my fingers are between your thighs,” she lets out a soft moan and he knows that she’s his; that the self-restraint she was clinging to has crumbled to dust. He can’t resist tipping her over the edge with it anyway. “I _need_ it, Nes.”

His fingers press a little harder over her clit, insistent, demanding and she at last cracks, a moan bursting from her lips. She pulls her hands away from his wings and he can’t stop the curse that falls from him in response. But it’s only to give her the time to pull her light silk shift up over her head, tossing it to the floor and leaving her entirely naked before him. Cassian leans forwards, burying his head between her breasts, dragging her nipple between his teeth and making him tremble, whimpering out his name.

“I want to see you,” she whispers to him as her fingers start tearing open his tunic.

 Groaning, knowing he won’t feel her hands on him again until she has what she wants, he helps her work the garment free, only stopping when he feels the soft flare of her magic at the slits in the back that make space for his wings. Even that faint sensation is enough to make him tremble beneath her. A slow smile spreads across her face at that and he feels a soft murmur of heat, like warm breath, flushes over his wings and he _moans_ for her.

Nesta pauses in her frantic bid to tear the clothes from him piece by piece if necessary and drags her fingers over his wings again and he crumbles. His forehead rests against her shoulder as he pants, straining the laces of his trousers, desperate for her, for this, for every inch of his mate, his _mate_.

“Look at me,” the order comes quietly, sweetly, but it’s unmistakably an order. Nesta rarely says anything with him in bed that isn’t a demand, a plea for what she needs, and he never disappoints her. Cassian’s head snaps up, his eyes finding hers at once and his lips fall open in a snarl that’s silenced by the tender brush of her fingers against the sensitive membrane.

One of her hands drops from him, tugging at the laces of his trousers, opening him up for her, allowing her to grind down against him while her other hand strokes repeatedly over that spot just beneath the talon. “ _Nesta_ ,” he chokes out, her name a breathless gasp, overwhelmed by what she’s doing yet it’s still not enough he needs more. More, more, _more_. “Nesta, Nesta, _please_.”

She refuses to increase her pace, just gives him that wicked smile, keeps rocking her hips against him, keeps gently stroking his wings. “We’re doing this again,” she whispers in his ear and he moans softly at the words, at the sweet softness of her voice that promises to destroy him. Groaning, Cass blindly slides his fingers between her legs once more and she moans but the words keep coming, a desperate bite to them now as she snaps them out between gasps of pleasure. “We’re doing this again and next time I want to feel it,” she snarls at him and he swears he stops breathing as she lightly caresses him.

“But now...” Her voice drops, becoming lighter and smoother, as she lifts herself up onto her knees pushing his trousers properly out of the way, Cassian raising his hips to help her. Then he reaches between them, tearing her thin lace panties from her, making her gasp. Swallowing down her own desire she grinds against him, teasing him as she whispers, “Now I want to feel you coming inside me, Cassian. And I want to hear you say my name when you do.”

Lifting herself up she takes him in her hand, positioning him at her entrance and then sinking down onto him, taking it slow, easing down inch by inch. They moan together at the feel of him filling her, she sends the feeling of the deep, satisfying stretch of him pushing up into her through the bond to him. She settles on him, taking him as deep as she can, shuddering, biting her lip to keep from moaning again as she shakes, trying to compose herself.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs softly. He needs her to move, needs her to ride him, needs the room to be filled with the sounds of her screaming for him as pleasure floods her. Reaching up he strokes his fingers gently through her hair, tucking it back behind her ears, cradling her face in his hands. He arches against her, resisting the urge to thrust up into her, pressing his forehead to hers instead before drawing her mouth to his, tasting her tongue as he parts his lips for her.

“Sweetheart, please,” he whispers into her mouth, “ _Please_.”

Nodding and panting hard she lifts up then sinks down onto him, whimpering as he pushes up into her. “Cass,” she whispers hoarsely. One hand grips his shoulder the other slides into the sweat-slick hair at the back of his neck, fingers tugging gently on his hair as she sinks down onto him. “ _Cassian_.”

“I love the way you say my name, Nes,” he whispers, nuzzling at her neck, kissing, sucking, making her moan hoarsely, thrusting down onto him, deeper, harder, moaning his name again, more loudly. “I love _you_ ,” he pants to her, burying his face at her shoulder. This woman, this storm bound in human skin is his, his partner, his lover, his _mate_. She whimpers again at those words, nodding her head and kissing him slowly, deeply, as she increases her pace on him, moving faster, harder.  

Cassian groans, sliding his fingers between her thighs, pressing them right over her clit and making her scream for him the way that he loves. “That’s it,” he murmurs to her, his lips pressing against her neck, “That’s it sweetheart, that’s a good girl,” he praises her, the fingers of his other hand stroking through her hair. He rubs her clit in the pattern of swift circles he knows she loves and she cries out his name again.

“Yes,” she pants, “Yes, yes, _Cass_ ,” her hands brace at his shoulders, nails digging into them as she rides him as fast and hard as she can against him, rhythm faltering as she starts getting closer. Cassian thrusts up into her, guiding her into a steadier rhythm again and she nods her approval, letting him take over a little.

“Are you close, Nes?” he pants to her. She moans, nods again, grinding down against him, gripping his wrist and coaxing his fingers to move faster on her clit. He nuzzles at her neck, managing a smirk as he pauses what he’s doing to her, “I want to hear you say it,” he breathes to her, “I want to hear you tell me how close you are for me,” he murmurs. He starts his fingers moving on her again, a single press over her clit that has her moaning and grinding down urgently against his fingers. “I want you to tell me how much you want to come for me, sweetheart.”

“I want to come,” she whispers and he moans outright at that. He had expected her to snarl at him, to rock slower against him, to drag it out, torment him and tease him. “I’m close,” she whispers, stroking her fingers through his hair as she trembles against him, “I’m so close, I-“ she moans, burying her face against the crook of his neck, “I’m going to come for you, Cassian,” she whispers to him, making him hiss her name again. She slides her fingers under his chin, tilting his head up, making him look at her, “I want you to come with me.”

He nods, “Nesta,” he whispers, quietly, taking his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. Then he raises their joined hands, draws them up, places them just below the talon, in that spot she’s discovered that he loves. Leaning forward he kisses her, slowly, deeply, feeling her fingers trembling against him, waiting for his permission. “Please,” he murmurs quietly in her ear, “Nesta, please, I need, my wings, my wings, Cauldron, Nesta, _please_.”

Her finger rubs gently at that spot, following the rhythm of his fingers on her clit, and his head falls forwards, hair falling into his eyes as they flutter closed, his lips parting in soundless pleasure. Their bodies move in sync together, rising and falling like a beating heart. Nesta’s fingers are frantic but always gentle, always careful on the sensitive membrane of his still scarred wings. He had never thought to have anyone touch them again, had guarded them so fiercely as they were healing he had snarled even at Mor and Azriel is they had accidentally brushed against them. He had never thought to be this open, this vulnerable, this _exposed_ ever again.

But as he drew her lips to his, heard her whimper his name, felt her gasp out her prayer, her pledge to him, “I love you, Cassian,” as she kissed him...He knew. He knew that, if he was faced with the choice, the choice of losing his wings, of facing what he endured after Hybern, the screaming, the torture, the agony, the terror, the hopeless desolation he had been left in when he has felt the sky ripped away from him, the chains binding around his body and pinning him to the ground with every sickening day that went by without hope, or losing her...He knew what he would choose. He knew that he would allow them to carve the wings from his back before he ever let them lay a single finger upon her without a second’s hesitation.

The healer’s had stitched him back together, sewn up his wings in the patchwork of ruined, ragged flesh, repaired the seams that have now become scars on him. His Circle, his family, had given him hope, had given him strength, had kept him going, a day at a time, refusing to let him give in or accept that he might never fly again. They had given him the chance to have his wings back again, to live in hope that he might one day hear the song of the wind howling in his blood and be able to answer but she...She had looked into his eyes, into his very soul, dug her claws into his very heart, and given him the ability to live without them. Even if he never flew again, even if he still lost them, lost everything, he would not give up, he would not falter, he would not fail. He would live. He would _want_ to live. Because of her. _For_ her.

“I love you,” he rasps out to her, opening up the bond between them, letting her feel everything he does, letting it crash into her, overwhelming her with it until she whispers his name. “Nesta, I love you, I love you.”

She slams down onto him again, and presses her forehead to his as she shatters, eyes closed, hoarsely whispering, “I love you too, Cass.” The sound of those words falling from her tongue combined with the way she drags her nails the length of his wings as she climaxes finishes Cassian too and he roars her name as he comes inside her at last.  

Panting and shaking, Cassian gently wraps his arms around her, drawing her in close to him. Their foreheads are still pressed together, with their eyes closed they reach blindly for one another, faces cradled in one another’s hands, lips meeting in a soft, tender kiss. They melt into it, letting it linger a long time as they remain entwined together, mouths moving lazily against one another, indulging in this, this quiet calm that follows the raging storm.

Finally, Cassian cleans them up and propels them backwards, crashing against the pillows and making Nesta yelp in surprise as her tender embrace is interrupted by this sudden motion. She glowers a little at him but he only laughs and kisses her again until she’s smiling, albeit grudgingly, against him. He winks at her and she huffs, folding her arms in mock irritation but even she can’t maintain that front for long now.

Leaning forwards instead she cups his face in a small, delicate hand, thumb stroking his cheek, grazing over the scruff on his jaw. “That was...okay?” she asks, suddenly tentative, her eyes flicking over his shoulder, glancing at his wings.

He chuckles lightly, “If you have to ask, sweetheart,” he murmurs with a smirk, “You clearly weren’t paying attention...Maybe we should go again and you can-“Thunder gathers in that beautiful face of hers as she scowls darkly at him.

When he feels a genuine flicker of concern through the bond from her he softens entirely, knowing she only wishes to be sure that it wasn’t too much. He slides his fingers under her chin, tilting her head up and then drawing her to him, kissing her gently, “It was perfect, Nes,” he murmurs softly but sincerely, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers, “ _You_ were perfect.” That coaxes a hesitant smile out of her again, softening the sharp edges of her beautiful face, making her look younger, gentler, and he can’t help himself from reaching up and kissing her.

“So...” Nesta muses, settling down against him, his arms around her, her head pillowed against his chest, tracing the sweeping dark lines of his tattoo with the tip of an idle finger, “We can do this again?” she asks him, a sly smile tugging the corners of her lips.

Cassian grins down at her, kissing her again before purring onto her lips, “We’re definitely doing this again, sweetheart, don’t you worry about that.” She smiles again, pressing her lips against his once more before she settles down against him.

Humming contentedly, Cassian lets her settle then gently folds his wings around them, enclosing them together in darkness. Nesta starts in surprise at the feel of them wrapping over them but she doesn’t protest and so he leaves them gently cocooned around them. Kissing the top of her head he murmurs a quiet good night to her and her voice is thick with sleep when she mumbles it back, the words slightly muffled against his chest.

The final teasing brush of her fingertips over his wings before she sinks into sleep has him shuddering, anticipating the way she’ll like wake him next morning...

****

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please leave comments and please also shower Nicole (blogtealdeal) with lots of love because she deserves it all!!


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